To Be Young
by LondonAfterMidnight
Summary: The story of L's childhood, starting with his birth and working until his departure from Wammy's House. Minor spoilers concerning Death Note Characters and L's true name. Mild LxOC
1. Stillborn

Nell was scared. Downright terrified. Less than a minute ago, she was in agony. Twenty years old and in more pain than she had been in her entire life. But she was happy. Now she felt old, and miserable.

"Twins..." she whispered. The doctor had said "twins". A boy and a girl.

Stillborn.

Elliot held his wife. They had tried for years....Night after night, they hoped and wished, prayed and begged the powers that be. They were blessed with twins...and lost them in a heartbeat.

A rather timid nurse entered the room.

"Mrs. Lawliet?"

Elliot and his stricken wife looked up hesitantly. How much more news could they take?

"Y-yes?" she trilled.

"I have wonderful news!" she said ecstatically, presenting Nell with a small blue bundle. "Your boy survived!"

The Lawliets spared each other one crazed glance, before hungrily pushing aside the blue fleece blankets.

A tiny pink someone, with a shock of tufty black hair, peered up at them with huge eyes, like coals.

"He's beautiful..." Nell cooed, lightly stroking her child's cheek.

Elliot bent down, kissing his son on his tiny forehead.

"Of course he is. He's ours."

The nurse gave the blissful couple a few moments before approaching them with a clipboard.

"Have you thought of a name?" she asked sweetly.

The two looked at each other

Nell raised her eyebrows. "We, we only ever thought about a girl. We liked Elle."

"We could call him that." said her husband."

"That's a girl's name!" she exclaimed. "Unless...."

Elliot smiled. "Maybe...?"

"Congratulations!" cried the nurse as she backed out the door. Pen scratching away, she filled out the birth certificate, muttering under her breath.

"Last name...Lawliet. First name....L"


	2. Sugar

"That's right, sweetie! C-E-R-E-A-L!" cried Nell, handing her eight-month-old a cocoa puff. The child's eyes lit up, and he quickly signed 'Thank you' before popping the reward in his mouth.

Elliot sighed, laying down his newspaper and eyeing his wife over the last of his coffee.

"It's wonderful he's picking sign language up so fast, but do you really have to reward every time? It's always something sugary. You'll give him diabetes."

Nell rolled her eyes back at him. "Nonsense, it's the same way my mother taught me." she said, turning to little L and smiling. "Prove Daddy wrong, L! Tell him what you think!"

Elliot's forehead creased as his son immediately fingerspelled 'Poop'.

The truth was, Nell was worried. Though exceptionally bright for his age, and apparently happy, physically her baby was behind. He was terribly underweight, according to her last doctor's visit, and as she tried to explain to social services, this wasn't her doing. As L had a good amount of teeth for his age, she had already weaned him, and instead tried beefing him up by feeding him solid foods high in sugar and fat. He remained stubbornly skinny.

Seeing as it hadn't helped, the boy's mother soon came to regret her decision regarding his diet. Never heeding her husband's warnings, their charge soon would eat nothing that wasn't laced wth sugar.

"I'm telling you, Nell, if you wait long enough he'll eat it." an exasperated Elliot expained."If he gets hungry enough, he'll eat what he's given!"

Not a woman to be crossed, Nell put her one hand on her hip, the other pointing at L.

"Look at him! What kind of mother would I be to let him starve in his condition?"

L blinked around the kitchen at his parents.

"Cookie?"

Completely lost to the joy of his first word, the argument was forgotten. Though approached every once in a while, Elliot finally gave up after his son's eating habits began to put a dent in his weight. If this was the cost of health, so be it.


	3. Sherlock

"Miss Peacock, I'm finished.", said L, leaning back in his desk chair, pencil placed neatly next to a small work pamphlet.

"Already?" his teacher asked, glancing at the timer. He still had fifteen minutes. It had only been five.

"Yes, ma'am. There were only twenty problems, you gave me thirty last time.", the young Lawliet replied dolefully, handing out the papers for his teacher to take.

Samantha Peacock was astounded. The other children were strewn about the room, and like most kindergarteners were chattering away in their high-pitched giggles, looking at picture books, coloring, or playing pretend in games like 'house'. Perfectly normal five-year-olds.

L Lawliet was not a normal five-year-old. He wasn't even five.

After speaking to the Principal, Mr. and Mrs. Lawliet enrolled their gifted three-year-old in Miss Peacock's kindergarten class. It took less than a week for her to realise that this was not even a normal gifted child.

The boy was fluent in his native tongue, his knowledge of english better than most middle-schoolers. He was delightfully well-mannered, and hs handwriting, spelling, and punctuation almost outstripped his outstanding level of reading comprehension.

Today, he was working on a fifth-grade division worksheet. She had tried him out one one two days before. True, it had had thirty problems. This had taken him fifteen minutes. But in just two days, he had practiced at home and now finished the twenty, rather more advanced, problems in just five.

Miss Peacock took the papers, not even bothering to check them. She knew they were right.

The child's eyes, like huge dark tunnels, followed her as she walked to her desk to put L's work in his folder.

Realising what she had forgotten, Miss Peacock returned to face her star pupil, kneeling down to the tot's eye level.

"You've done very well today, L." she said, smiling broadly, "And I think you've earned something."

L looked confused for a moment, as his beloved teacher presented him with three small hardcover books.

Then, his face lit up as he read the cover of the first. He leapt up from the desk and hugged Miss Peacock, his wee arms squeezing as tight as he could.

"Thank you! Oh, thank you!" his tiny voice cried. He stared at the gift again. "Wow..." he whispered. "The Original Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes."


	4. Halloween

"Shhh, Elliot, you'll wake him up!"

"No, I won't, just put the presents out."

"I already did! Get the cake on the table, I'll put up these balloons."

As the morning sun peeked over the windowsill, a small, fluffy black head strirred, poking out of a blue quilted blanket. The first chill of autumn nipped at the child's toes. He slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking blearily about the room.

Stretching and yawning, L crawled out of bed, softly plodding towards the door and down the stairs in his bare feet. Approaching the kitchen door, he pushed it open and slowly walked inside.

"Happy Halloween, sweetie." Nell said to her son, smiling as she removed her apron and bent down to hug him.

"Happy Halloween, mommy." he replied, yawning and rubbing his eyes again.

"I put your breakfast on the table. Your father took the day off work, so why don't you go tell him Happy Halloween?" his mother said, grinning and pushing open the door to the dining room.

"Why did he stay-" started L, passing through the door way.

Onyx eyes wide and sparkling, the smallest Lawliet finally remembered what today was.

"Happy Birthday, L!" his parents chanted, squeezing him from either side, Dad mussing his hair and Mom smothering him in kisses.

Smile second only to the sun, L surveyed the room. Orange and black streamers, balloons, and party decorations littered the place, covering a chair at the head of the table like a throne.

In the very center of the wondrous mess was a cupcake. A foot-and-a-half tall, thickly frosted in white butter cream, topped with all manner of sprinkles, chocolate curls, cherries, and strawberries, cupcake.

"Are you gonna stare at it, are are we gonna eat some cake?" chuckled L's father, Elliot, tearing his only son out of his reverie.

"I'm gonna EAT IT!!!" he cried, running across the room and climbing into his chair.

"Your mother stayed up all night baking that." said Elliot, raisning his eyebrows as Nell approached with a lighter and a cake slicer.

"What do you think?" she asked, looking from her masterpiece to L.

"It's amazing, mommy!" he declared, sincerity etched in his face, "The best ever!"

She beamed, lighting five candles on the top of the cake.

"Make a wish!" Elliot said.

L looked thoughtful. Then he seemed to come to a conclusion.

"No...I don't think I will, thanks."

Nell was surprised.

"Why not?" she asked, confused.

"Because I already have everything thing I ever want." he replied, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

Elliot and Nell looked at each other and beamed. They couldn't be more proud of their only child.


	5. Heaven

Caramel apples, funnel cake, cotton candy... L Lawliet was in heaven. It was his fifth birthday, and Nell, Elliot, and their son were at the carnival celebrating the fall harvest.

"Mommy...I don't feel so good..." the little tyke groaned, leaning against the railing as they dismounted a spinning ride.

"I don't wonder. You've eaten about ten pounds of candy!" Elliot laughed good-naturedly, "Here," he said, picking L up and perching him on his shoulders, "I'll give you a lift."

The happy family strolled about the carnival, laughing and enjoying the atmosphere. Both proud parents had an arm around each other, sharing a look that couldn't have been plainer.

_"This is heaven. I love you."_

"Are you ready for another ride, yet?" asked Nell, lifting her son from Elliot's shoulders. She gestured to the ferris wheel. "Maybe start with something more gentle?"

"Yeah!" shouted L, running for the short line, parents jogging to keep up.

Nell counted out the right number of tickets and handed them to the attendant, and the three of them climbed into the swinging car. The ride started, slowly rising to the top, before coming softly back down. Little L darted to the opening between the metal bars holding the roof, gazing out above the sleepy little town they called home.

"Careful, now." warned his father, pulling L down into one of the hard plastic seats. The car swayed and creaked ominously, and Nell held onto her son a little tighter than normal. They reached the very top again, swinging to a stop as riders boarded below.

There was a small screeching sound, becoming steadily louder. The car jerked.

"What the hell-!" yelled Elliot, grabbing Nell by the shoulders.

Suddenly, they were hanging sixty feet above the ground by a single iron bar. Nell and Elliot instinctively huddled together, protecting L between them. They heard yells below, the sound of breaking metal-

And then nothing.

"Mommy? Mommy, wake up. Daddy, wake up!! Mommy, Daddy, wake up!! WAKE UP!!!!"


	6. Hurt

"Well, I have good news," sighed the doctor, closing his bag with a snap, "and bad news."

Samantha Peacock closed her eyes, squeezing the hand of the sleeping child next to her, heavily medicated and unaware of the diagnosis he was about to recieve. She nodded, preparing herself for the worst.

"It looks like there'll be some lasting damage. He has a few fractures in his lower spinal column." the tired-looking man pronounced grimly. Samantha hung her head.

"Th-that means...He won't be able to walk?" she asked tearfully.

The doctor shook his head vigorously.

"No, no! Not at all!" he said, a small smile playing across his face, "He won't be able to right away, of course, but with a little work he'll be just fine!"

Slapping a hand to her forehead, Samantha sank onto the bed next to her new charge.

"So....what do we do now?" she asked tremulously.

He smiled kindly, and took out a business card, on which he wrote an address and a date.

"Once he's healed enough, say, in about five weeks, bring him down to my office and we'll have him fitted for some leg braces. He may have a little trouble, but eventually he should be back to normal."

L's new caretaker sighed, looking down at a long list of rules and regulations, bills and names of people she needed to call.

A week ago she heard through the school grapevine that a former student of hers, the brilliant L Lawliet, had been in a terrible accident, killing his parents and injuring him. He had no living relations, and his godfather had recently been apprehended on a drug charge. They state was about to move him from the hospital into an overcrowded foster home, before Miss Peacock interceded. Tearing through a mountain of paperwork, digging deep into her savings, she arranged for the boy to be placed with her.

"L, please eat something. You haven't eaten in almost a week!" she pleaded, waving around the kitchen as the boy lay on the couch.

"I don't care...I'm not hungry, Miss Peacock."

Something in his simple statement struck a nerve.

"That's it! Here!" she cried, slamming a plate of cake down in front him on the coffee table. She turned to face him.

"Now, you could have gone to that horrible state place. But I beleived you were better than that. That a wonderful, sweet, smart boy like you shouldn't go to waste! I went through hell and high water to get you!" Samantha fumed, hands gesticulating wildly, "And you sit here, moping about the sadness of it all, starving yourself, and making me feel like it was all for nothing!"

L looked down, tears falling on his dirty white t-shirt.

Miss Peacock looked ashamed of herself. She knelt next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I know it's hard, sweetie. It'll take some time to feel better about what's happened. But your parents wouldn't have wanted you to give up. They would have wanted you to do your very best. You always make everyone so proud." she smiled gently, "Don't stop now. We'll get through this together."

The child's huge, dark eyes met his gaurdian's blue ones, and he too smiled.

"Okay, Sam. Will you pass me that cake?" said L, pulling himself into a sitting position.

She stood up, wiping her eyes and handing him the plate.

"Of course, here you are."

"Thank you. For everything."


	7. Braces

A/N: L was originall brought up in the state of Florida, in the United states. Most characters in his childhood have a slight southern accents. Also, Yoohoo is a type of chocolate milk like drink, though tastes just fine room temp as it is not made with milk.

"Hey Froggy!"

"Ha watch him go! I bet he's a fucking retard."

"I know he is, the teacher always gives him special work, cus he's slow!"

L shook with anger, right down to his rattling metal heels.

If only they knew...He was ten...no!.... a hundred times smarter than they were!

But they didn't know. And again L found himself falling into a pattern. Always listen. Never react. To show emotion meant to show weakness. So L listened, and kept his head down. And hobbled along the sidewalk home.

"Hey, Frogmeister!"

L ducked instinctively. A voice so close usually meant attack. But then he straightened up, remembering only one person called him that.

"Hi, Gertie." he said in a low voice. It had been a very tiring day.

"Gee, Frogmeister, you look a little low. You okay? Randy Fiker pickin' on you again? Cus if he is I thought he'd'a learned his lesson by now! You just lemme at'im, when I'm through he won't know his arse from his elbow--" she went on and on, running around in front of L while he trundled onward.

He gave a small sigh.

"No, that's alright, it's not really any one kid this time, it's just-"

"Everything?" she nodded sagely.

"Yeah."

The two seven-year-olds walked in silence for a moment, before Gertie took a fresh breath and started again.

"So, anyway, boy am I glad I ran into you-"

L held up a hand to stop her, put on a tomboyish sort of nasally drawl, and picked up for her.

"Boy am I glad I ran into you, Ms. Vernon gave us a bushel of homework, I dunno who she thinks we are, a bunch of rocket scientists? So anyway I need your help just this one last time, pretty please with sugar on top? She's got us subtracting double didgits, do you beleive that, DOUBLE DIGITS, Frogmeister! Please, please, I'll do anything...."

Her ginger pigtails noticeably drooping, Frogmeister's friend for once looked serious.

"Am I really that bad?" she said shamefully, staring at her toes.

His point made, L shook his head, grinning.

"So will ya help me? I mean, I shore would-"

He mimicked her again.

"I shore would like to buy my Froggy friend a pack of Yoohoo boxes so he can slave over my homework with me, and maybe this time I'll pay some attention and do it myself next time?"

Gertie grinned in her freckly, gap-toothed way and raised her right hand.

"Why, guilty as charged, your honor!"

Armed with YooHoo boxes, paper, and pencils, L Lawliet and Gertie Gordon made their way across from his house to the lake (which was really a very large, oak lined pond). It was hot and humid, perfect weather for swimming.

"Please, Frogger, pleeeaaase?" Gertie whined. Her own mother would never let her swim in anything but a kiddie pool. And especially not with a boy.

At first, L was all work, determined not to let her get away with it yet again. But as the sun beat down on his metal straps and screws, almost singing his leg, Frogmeister caved.

"We have til Thursday...Alright. But you have to help me out of my hardware first."

"You betcha!"

The ginger pulled out her 'lucky' screwdriver (L suspected it had a hand in certain bullies sudden retreat) and set to work on the six main screws that held on her friend's leg braces. After five minutes hard work, there was a satisfying creak and off they went. L set to work massaging out the kinks in his muscles, helped along by Gertie, who flushed lightly as their eyes met, her hands running deftly along his right calf. Quite transfixed, she gazed upward as the sun glowed gold against L's wild ebony tresses, dark, orb-like eyes sweet yet serious. A child who had seen too much, who had known hurt no child should...

The moment was gone as quick as it came, and L pushed himself to a crouching position. Poised in a squat, arms between his feet to keep his balance, huge eyes ringed with lack of sleep, and long toes on feet a bit big for his age, L did, indeed, resemble a frog.

Both children had stripped down to their cloth playshorts, both barechested, as it would be years before either child cared about the visible differences between genders. Now, the only difference between each flat chest was L's ghostly sheen against Gertie's light bronze.

Lazing about in the shallow pool, under shade of ancient oaks, the mood was peaceful. L's legs didn't ache for once, the water supporting his slight frame. Gertie had let her long fiery tresses out of their braids, floating in the water and swirling about her cute face. L thought she looked like a mermaid. Mermaids were pretty. Gertie was very pretty. Not really thinking much, L grabbed her hand. The girl smiled, and stood up in the water with L, for a big, soaking wet hug. Breaking apart but hands still clasped, Froggy and Ginger looked at each other, childlike innocence filled to the brim with affection. L kissed her on the forehead, looking back to her slightly apologetic.

"Don't worry." said Gertie, and she kissed him back, ever so gently, on the lips. He smiled, trembling slightly. She held his arms tighter.

"I love you, too, L. Always and Forever."

"Always and Forever." he whispered back.


	8. Bon Voyage

A/N Very long chapter. Have fun, please review, I worked hard on this!!!

Edit: For some reason, no matter how I edit and upload there are certain spaces where the term 'Mr. Wammy' is cut out of the text. I guess FFNet doesn't like poor Mr. Wammy. Hopefully you can tell where it's supposed to be?

Dip. Stroke. Left. Right. Blue. White.

L watched, transfixed, as Gertie worked her brush like an extension of her own arm. Snow-capped mountains, a mirror-like lake, endless blue skies and deep green foliage formed slowly as she progressed. A dream world they could both escape to, as long as Gertie kept painting.

It all ended far too soon, and the paint-spattered girl stood back to observe her piece.

"Whad'ya think?" she asked, glancing from the canvas to her fluffy-haired friend.

"Beautiful as always, Gertie. Absolutely stunning!" he replied, gazing openmouthed at the painting.

She blushed.

"Thanks."

"Another fantastic work, Gertrude." said Samantha Peacock, leaning against the door frame of her foster son's room. She smiled fondly at the pair of 2nd graders, then waved a set of keys in the air.

"I'm going grocery shopping. L, put your braces on, and Gertie needs to wash up. We'll drop her off on the way to Walmart."

She turned out of the room. Had she stayed a moment longer, no doubt she'd find the children's reaction disturbing.

The redhead tensed up, staring at the floor as though seriously considering nailing her feet to it. L pulled himself up by gripping the dresser next to him, his legs near useless without the aid of his metal and leather braces. He put an arm around Gertie's shoulder.

"Maybe he'll be okay today. Maybe your mom got off work early. He doesn't dare do it while she's there, right?" he said, giving his stricken friend a gentle squeeze. She nodded her head slightly, and the two locked eyes, Gertie's wide and shiny from holding back tears, L's dark and sad, knowing he couldn't protect his only friend. They sighed. Each knew how unlikely L's suggestion was.

After they had cleaned up and L put his gear on, the two scrambled into Miss Sam's jeep and drove to Gertie's house. With one last fearful glance, their eyes met, and L and Gertie embraced before she made her way up the front walk, like a prisoner sentenced to death.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

L lay awake, staring at the ceiling, willing it to give him the answers he needed. There used to be a time he thought himself unlucky, that life had been underhanded and cruel. That there was no reason to keep going.

He now knew better. His parents were dead, yes. He had a terrible injury, and would most likely never have the full function he once possesed. He was picked on in school. All this was true.

But he was loved. Sam loved him like her own son, and cared for him with all she had, catering to his eccentricities and digging into her savings for his medical costs. He posessed boundless intelligence, awards and prizes lining one wall of shelves already at the tender age of eight.

And he had the best friend one could ask for, one who stuck up for him when bullies threatened, who he could talk to about anything. Who he loved more than anything or anyone.

Which was why he lay awake. L Lawliet had to save his best friend. Save her from the monster. Her own father.

He had already tried to get her to tell, to report him for the unspeakable atrocities he had comitted against his own small daughter. But she forbade him from doing it. Despite everything, she loved her father, wanted desperately for him to accept and love her. L doubted it would ever happen.

So he pondered, wishing with everything he had for the answer.

The next day, it came.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

L and Gertie burst through the back door the following Monday after school.

"Sam, I'm home! I brought Gertie!" he shouted down the hall, heading for the living room.

"L, please come here!" she called back from the kitchen, "And bring Gertie, too!"

They looked at each other with raised eyebrows before turning in at the kitchen door.

Seated at the table, each with a cup of tea, were Miss Sam and a strange man. He looked old, with grey hair and a thick mustache, dressed in a black suit and smiling kindly at the two children.

"Please sit down." he said, pouring two new cups of tea.

They did as told, L spooning gobs of sugar into his before taking a sip, looking expectantly from the stranger to Sam.

L's foster mother spoke first, more to L than Gertie.

"This is Mr. Quillsh Wammy," she said," Mr. Wammy, this is L Lawliet, and his friend Gertrude Gordon."

Gertie looked perplexedly from Sam to Mr. Wammy, but L seemed excited.

"Quillsh Wammy, the inventor?" he asked.

The man smiled genially. "The very same."

"Mr. Wammy runs a home for gifted children." explained Sam. She looked nervous. "In England. He says he's interested in taking you on, in expanding your skills."

L looked confused. "In England? You want me? What do you mean, expanding my skills?"

Sam made as though to speak, but Mr. Wammy stopped her.

"I have looked through your records, and spoken with Miss Peacock, and it seems as though your particular strengths lie in the field of problem-solving and investigation. In short, detective work. I wish to take you with me, to hone these skills. I believe, with a little work, you could be the best."

"I could?" he asked, delighted, "And Sam is coming too?"

Quillsh looked most uncomfortable.

"I'm afraid not. If you agree to come with me, you will be leaving your life here behind. I will remove your records, your name, all information, from all sources. Being the best comes at a price. There will be those who wish you harm. If anyone were to know your connection to Miss Peacock, she would be in grave danger in years to come. Alongside that, we cannot erase her records, as it is far more difficult, impossible even, to erase the records of those over eighteen."

L looked downcast.

"I'm sorry." said .

Sam looked at L, who seemed to teeter on the edge, unable to decide.

"L, you know I love you. I've enjoyed watching you grow. I've never seen a child like you, no one has. I believe this is what's right for you, and I'll miss you terribly. But this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. You don't want any regrets."

She wrapped her arms around his tiny frame, hugging him tightly. L hugged back, never wanting to let go. They both held back tears.

"Okay." he said to Mr. Wammy. Then he looked to Sam.

"One day, you'll hear about the best detective in the world. That'll be me. Don't forget me til then."

She sniffed, wiping tears from her eyes.

"I never will."

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

L was told that he could bring one suitcase of clothes and belongings. As he hurriedly packed, Gertie entered the room. Her face was streaked with tears, her cheeks red with anger. As L turned around to see her, she rushed forward, and begain beating at every inch of the boy she could reach.

"How-DARE-you leave-me!!!" she wailed, each word punctuated with a blow. "Now when that-MONSTER-touches-me you-you-" Gertie collapsed on the carpet. "What am I gonna do? You can't leave, L!!! You just can't!"

L looked ashamed. The punches didn't faze him. But he ached inside. He couldn't leave her...L loved her too much...but there was no way.

Unless....

Kneeling down to the sobbing redhead, L spoke softly.

"Shhh. Stop crying. Clean your face. I have an idea."

Without further explanation, he rushed back to the kitchen.

"Mr. Wammy, is this place only for detectives?" he asked breathlessly.

Smiling, he said "Why, no. We take children of all talents, including investigation, the sciences, and the visual and performing arts. Why do you ask?"

L grinned "I have something you should see."

Gertie kept all of her paintings and supplies at L's house, lest her father destroy them in a drunken rage.

Mr. Wammy had come to L's room, curious to see what the boy was talking about. Emerging from the closet with a small stack of canvases, he spread them across his bedspread.

"Gertie did all these. She's only eight!"

Stepping closer to observe the paintings, Mr. Wammy stroked his chin, forehead creased in concentration.

"Remarkable..." he said quietly, "Almost like a photograph!"

Gertie had reentered the room, and stopped dead when she realised what the other two were doing.

Mr. Wammy straightened up, turning to face the two children.

"These are rather incredible, and yes, L, under the right curcumstances she would be the right material for Wammy's House."

They nodded solemnly up at him.

"But?" said Gertie.

"But Wammy's House is an orphanage. I understand Miss Gordon has both parents still intact. I'm truly sorry."

L looked down sadly, then moved as though to start packing again.

Gertie, however, looked at Mr. Wammy and lost it.

"Mr. Wammy, please! I don't belong here, I want to go with you and L! You said I'm the right material-"

He looked troubled." Yes, but I'm afraid it would be unethical to remove you from your parents-"

This really got her going.

"My parents? My parents don't give a DAMN about me! They tell me all the time I was a mistake, that they wished they never had me! My mother works all day and only sees me long enough to remind me how she hates me, and my dad- my dad does all sorts of foul things to me, he beats me and breaks my toys and he touches me-"

She broke down yet again, clutching at the front of Mr. Wammy's suit.

"Please! Please, you've got to take me!"

Mr. Wammy gently took Gertie's wrists removed them from their grasping efforts, then placed a hand on her shoulder, looking to L.

"All of this is true?" he asked calmly.

L nodded.

"And you are finished packing?"

"Yes." he replied.

"Then come quickly, we have a plane to catch and we must hurry if we still have to stop and collect Miss Gordon's things."

Gertie's eyes lit up, L's eyebrows disappeared into his hair, and they rushed out the door after Mr. Wammy, L stopping for one last heartfelt hug with Sam.

"Be good. Remember I'll always love you. I'll be waiting to hear about the best detective in the world."

L squeezed for the last time.

"I'll always love you, Sam. You'll hear about me sooner than you think."

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Please fasten your seatbelts. We will arrive in London shortly."

"I can't believe it. Your parents just signed you over, like a used car!"

"I can believe it. And I'm glad they did."

"Me too. I can't wait to see what it's like there."

"It'll be great, so long as you're there."

"Same here."

Quillsh Wammy smiled serenely at the two small children in seated across from him. They'd find out soon enough.


	9. Back Off

Chapter Notes: Sorry it's been so long! Every library I've been to banned FF, so I haven't updated in forever.  
However, You'll recieve a chapter per day til number twelve, then we'll see how often after that (I'm loading these so fast because I've been writing them since I left. The rest are yet to be written) As always, Read, Review, and can we get some fanarts up in herrrrre?

Chapter 9: Back Off

"Gert. Ger-eeert. _Gertie..._GERTRUDE!"

"Mmmmn...It washnt me...I shwear.."

L sat crouched, frog-style, at the end of the last bed in the girls ward. A puffy-eyed Gertie, wrapped in the sheets, peered blearily at him through the dark. Taking note of the clock on the bedside table, L's best friend gave him a well-aimed kick.

"It's four in the morning, L, what the fuck?"

"I was lonely."

"If we're found, I'll be in deep shit. Even though it's YOU visiting ME. Precious perfect genius L never does any wrong."

The bitterness of her tone hit L like a freight train.

"I haven't seen you in almost three weeks..." he said, voice cracking, "I...I missed you."

Gertie's deep green eyes surveyed the boy in front of her, barely visible in the shadows. It had been nearly a year and a half since they had been whisked away from their lives in the US, and at first everything was wonderful. It soon transpired, however, that life at Wammy's House for Exceptional Child Enrichment was not the easy paradise the two prodigies had imagined.

After they turned nine, the girls and boys began to live in seperate dorms, only meeting during classes and free time. Meals and other activities were participated in on seperate sides on the house.

This didn't really matter at first, as L and Gertie made up for lost time during classes, L finishing his work fast and then spending the rest of his time helping Gertie through hers. They occasionally met in the kitchens, where L took his meals away from the other boys, since there would be an uproar as to why only L got sweets for every meal. Gertie pretended to want to take cooking lessons, and after explaining the situation and begging the cooks, the two were allowed to spend hours of their free time lounging about or practicing one of L's pastry recipes.

This arrangement was short-lived. One of the dorm caretakers found Gertie out, and she was barred from the kitchen. L had long since stopped taking lessons with the others, and was now being privately tutored by Mr. Wammy himself, and was living in a private dorm on the top floor with his mentor.

"If you weren't such a smart-ass show-off, that wouldn't be a problem!" snarled Gertie. She had never quite come to grips with the fact that L was more intelligent, more talented, and in her eyes, more loved. She had three long, lonely weeks to let her resentment ferment.

L's eyes were glimmering in the moonlight. He looked down, then grabbed for her hand.

Gertie jerked away, her eyes full of anger. she pointed towards the door.

"Just get out."

Cheeks stained with tears, L got to his feet.

"Why Gertie?" he croaked.

Already back in bed, she faced away from him.

"You're the detective."

Sorry so short. Next will be better.


	10. Distance

Chapter Note: Hello all! I just wanted to give ya'll a little heads up. This chapter is EMO. EMO EMO EMO. So Emo it shits bats. BLACK BATS. I know the pond section is cheesy. But I like it. So there! However, from this point on L really starts on his way to becoming that man we know and love. I'll show you how he started as a detective, his relationship with Watari, and how even though he's amazing and awesome and cool, L is still just a child, and probably will always carry that weak and damaged part.

BLAH BLAH BLAH. I have decided to update multiple times today and tomorrow instead of once a day. Please review EACH CHAPTER, and don't read the whole thing and post a general comment! I survive on comments! *shows you comment filled IV drip bag hanging from my computer armoire* Yes. My comp is in an antique armoire. This comment is far too long. I'll start the story.

Chapter 10: Distance

"Watari, please contact the NYPD. I've determined the culprit of case CR-28974, and there is information I need regarding case NB-33026."

"Yes, Just a moment."

L sat on his bed, surrounded by documents and photographs. A cassette player lay to his left, a recording of the 911 call for yet another case. He had rolled up the legs of the overly baggy pair of jeans he wore, and his tee shirt lay forgotten on the floor. Rustling through the papers, he scribbled notes here and there in time to munching his way through the small mountain of sugar cubes on his bedside table.

A bell tolled somewhere in the distance.

Giving a small sigh, the raven-haired tween scooped up his papers and deposited them in the chest by his bed. Pressing the button of a speaker on the wall, he spoke into it.

"Nix that. I'm done for the day. The offender in CR-28974 is already in custody. What's for dinner?"

"Very well. Miss Blackburn has made an Oreo cheesecake. It will need another hour to chill, however."

"That's fine. Please clear the rear courtyard. I'm going for a walk."

"Certainly. Give it five minutes."

"Thankyou."

Half an hour later, the young detective sat in an apple tree, examining his reflection in the pond below. A pair of frogs sat on the edge, side by side. After a moment, the larger frog jumped to the top of a pie of rocks. The other watched it progress, then disappeared in to the water.

Watching this scene from above, L quickly rubbed his eyes, sniffing a little. The blistering summer sun beat down upon him, heating up the metal braces wrapped around his legs. Reminded of another hot day by the water, the silece in the courtyard was torn by wracking sobs.

Tears falling thick and fast, L's shoulders shook violently, and he didn't bother to cover his face. Falling to his knees on the ground and beating the dirt with a distressed fist, he raised his face to the scorching sun and let out a chilling howl of misery.

Normally, L's breakdowns lasted only a few minutes. He'd breathe deeply, calm down, then return to the kitchen for some comfort food.

This time, as his sobs rose to choking cries, his breathing became shallow, and blood pounded in his temples.

L staggered back to the house, barely able to see where he was going. "Wa-wata-riiiiiiiiiiii!" he choked, stumbling around the top floor in search of his mentor, "Qui-iiii-iiiiiilsh! I-mmm-my-aaaaaaaah-"

The older man came bounding out of his study, alarmed, but upon catching sight of the crying eleven-year-old, his expression softened.

"L! Come here," he siad, stooping down and throwing his arms around the child, holding him tight, one hand stroking the soft black treses of his star pupil.

"Shhhhhh, L...it's alright...shhh..."

L settled back down, now engulfed in a fit of hiccups.

"What's the matter, L?" Quillsh asked kindly, holding the boy's shoulders and arms length and looking him in the eye.

Mr Wammy was always so nice, so dependable, but L couldn't bring himself to speak of his sorrows. He looked back into the kind grey eyes and shook his head. Teears still fell slowly down his face.

"Just one of those things?" Watari nodded knowingly, and L nodded back. They moved to a small couch in the room, where Mr. Wammy sat and lifted L into his lap, holding him tight and again stroking the head on his the boy's breathing became level, and light snoring told the older man his charge was asleep.

Shaking his head slightly, he muttered to himself.

"Too much pressure."


	11. Duds

Chapter Note: While I am still working on this story, I have ideas that I can't use. So, I am now taking requests for who's mysterious childhood I should uncover. Any series, any character, just tell me who you want to read about. (HINT HINT I am partial to Naruto as well as Death Note). PLEASE I want to know what you'd like to read!

This chapter is rather jumpy and awkward......but the next chapter introduces someone we all hold close to our hearts....or should I say near?

"L, hurry! We have an appointment!"

"Just let me get some pants on!

"Yes, that would make a good impression."

The world's smallest detective stood with his jaw open in awe outside the building housing Scotland Yard. This was his first excursion from Wammy's House since he had come therefour years previous. L was now used to the process of piecing together evidence and solving crimes, and already had a certain amount of prestige with several plice agencies in England, the US, and , however, it was time to try his hand at investigating a fresh crime scene, finding his own clues and drawing unbiased conclusions.

"So, where will I be snooping?" he asked, bouncing on his toes, "Bank robbery? Drug trafficking? A murder scene?"\

Mr. Wammy smiled genially.

"A home burglary."

"Is that all?" L moaned, pouting exaggeratedly.

"That's all. Genius you may be, but we don't want a novice twelve-year-old gallabanding about a major crime scene. You don't have a trained eye yet, and goodness knows you're clumsy. You may not recognise evidence until you've tripped over it!" the old man playfully admonished, chuckling a bit.

"I suppose...."

Crawling about on his hands and knees, L gingerly searched the glass-strewn carpet for any detail left by the intruder. The small bungalow reeked of boiled cabbage and cats. He supposed it belonged to an old lady. Perhaps a neighbor had seen the frail woman, decided to make some easy cash...?

An hour later, L and a burly police officer stood outside the door of the house one-over from the scene. An angry-looking teen, clad in black with chains and studded wristcuffs, answerd the doorbell's summons.

"What the hell do you want?" he growled.

L answered him a brisk, clipped tone.

"We're here investigating a burglary. Did you happen to see anything odd at Ms. Hampton's yesterday?"

"Uh...yeah. Some black dude took off running that way." he siad quickly, raising a finger to point up the street.

Instantly, the officer had pinned the teen to the wall, reacting to the signal from L.

"What the fuck! I didn't do nuthin'!" he roared.

"Tell it to the judge," spat L, grabbing the suspects right wrist, "Got some pretty bad cut on your hand. And missing a stud off your bracelet. Pity, those aren't cheap."

The boy looked furious. "Yeah, I fell, so what?"

L smirked, holding up the missing stud.

"Fell, fist first, through Ms. Hampton's window, losing a stud and dripping blood on her armchair. I believe you!"

The kid stared in stupified disbelief, before being pushed, kicking and cursing, into the waiting police car.

Watari pulled up after the squad car left.

"Very good. Took you a little longer than I expected, but an overall outstanding job."

L grinned. "Thanks. So are we going clothes shopping?"

"Yes. You look like a street urchin, those clothes are far too small." Mr. Wammy nodded, and without further ado, the two climbed into Quillsh's black cadillac and left for Harrod's.

After icecream on one of the building many floors, L gamboled around the mens clothing department, trying on several pairs of overly baggy jeans.

"You can't just wear what fits you? Why do you insist on such baggy pants?" Mr. Wammy inquired confusedly.

"Because, after walking around in _these_," replied L exasperatedly, shaking one jangly metal-encased leg, "the last thing I want is something tight around my legs. Plus, I hate shopping. I won't grow out of these for a while."

"Understandable." the old man agreed.

They then moved on to the shirts. L picked out a few cheap tee shirts, as he really wasn't into fashion, but function. Autumn was on it's way, so he looked into some with longer sleeves, too.

Some say there's no such thing as true love at first sight. But as the tee shirts in L Lawliet's hand fell to the floor, and his skin touched that soft, breathable material, L knew it was real.

"These!" L cried, piling thirty shirts into Mr. Wammy's arms.

"Where did you get all these from? And why do you need so many of one shirt?" hr sputtered, flabbergasted.

"I asked the clerk to get them from the back. This is the most _awesome_ shirt _ever_. That's all I ever need. I'll die happy if I kick the bucket wearing this shirt. I got some in the bigger sizes so I can grow into them."

Quillsh Wammy sighed. "Very well."


	12. Dear

Chapter Note: I really love this chapter. I'm slowly going to add the other canon Wammy's Boys, but don't worry, Gertie isn't gone forever. I'll update that part next. From here on out, I'm going to shoot for twice-a-week updates. I don't know how many chapters.....but I'm shooting for 17. It's my lucky number. If needed, I'll go past that.

Reply to comments:

reikanobutushi: *blushes furiously* You fill my comment-iv-drip full! *Huggles you* You are now L and Gertie's baby sitter for in-between chapters!

ElmaLaurette: You had to pick the one character I never really paid any attention to....tell you what, I love my readers...so I'll watch the episodes, read the manga, and do other such Haku-related research, and do 2-3 chapters on it, JUST FOR YOU! How's that?

FluffyDuck-01: I know! I felt so bad, I was thinking "They must think I'm dead!". I hate when someone does an amazing story, then just leaves it there to rot without finishing it. I will never abandon! Whatever happens, I'll beat it out in morse code on a drum, dicating it to the military so they can post it for me!!!! TO BE YOUNG FTW!!!!

Chapter 12: Dear

L was sweating as he stretched a pale hand to the ceiling vent, checking to see if cold air was coming out. There was no air at all. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed the pair of crutches by the door and hobbled down the stairs towards the kitchen, thinking of making himself a pitcher of sweet iced tea for the following day, which was sure to be hotter than the night.

The water in L's pot had just begun to boil when an echoing knock sounded from the front door, immediately followed by a blood-curdling scream and much fussing and ordering about of women's voices. The screams and moans became more frequent, and the voices, much akin to the clucking of chickens, blared through the kitchen door as it opened and one of the maids bustled in, clean towels draped over one arm and carrying a fistful of shiny metal instruments.

"Miss Blackburn, what-?" L spluttered.

"Oh, thank goodness, I don't think she could have waited for the water to boil." the stout woman said in her heavy irish accent. Speaking more to herself than the confused boy next to the stove, Miss Blackburn went on, "Poor girl, I don't think she'll live through the birth, it'll be a miracle if the baby's alright!"

Scooping up the pot by the handle in her already overfull hand, she presented L with a small vial and a syringe in its sterile wrapper, then shuffled back through the swinging door, calling to him over her shoulder.

"Fill that to the ten, hurry up, make yourself useful!" she barked.

Completely baffled, L stumbled after her on a single crutch, following the noise to a small room off the main hall, stopping at the door to fill the syringe, which was immediately snatched up by some other nursemaid. Pausing to look for the source of the commotion, L gasped.

In the middle of the room, covered in blood and thrashing about on the brass bed, a woman recieved the dose L had prepared. almost immediately, her screaming stopped, though she continued to clutch at her knees, breathing heavily and groaning.

"Here it comes, ladies!" cried Miss Blackburn, and a hush fell over the room, punctured by the woman's moans and breathing.

An infant's cry tore through the air, and several nursemaids gasped. The stranger fell back upon the bed, her breast heaving. She clutched at the air for her baby.

After tenderly washing the newborn and wrapping it in a towel, a blonde maid presented the woman with her child.

L stared in shock. The baby was now in full view of everyone in the room. While the mother was dark, with heavy-lidded eyes and black hair, her round face etched with lines of misery, her baby was light, colorless even.

"Wh-what's wrong with it?" the woman croaked. The blonde lady spoke kindly.

"It seems he's an albino, ma'am. But ain't nothin' wrong with him. Just a healthy baby boy."

The new mother closed her eyes, and her breathing became slow and ragged. Recognizing she had only a few moments, Miss Blackburn stepped forward.

"What should you like to name him, miss?" she asked tentatively.

Not bothering to open her eyes, the woman bent to kiss her son on his tiny forehead.

"Nate. Nate River." she whispered. And then she was still.

There was a short silence, which little Nate River saw fit to break. The blonde woman scooped his up, rocking him, then turned to L.

"Would you be a dear and fix him a bottle? The formula's in the cabinet by the fridge."

"Oh, um, yes ma'am!" he said, torn out of his reverie. Limping back to the kitchen on his crutch, L located the can and put two scoops of powder and some water into a clean bottle, shook it, then placed the concoction in the microwave for twenty seconds.

"Oh, good, give it here." sighed Miss Blackburned, returned with newborn Nate in the crook of her arm.

Just as the bottle passed to her fingertips, an urgent voice rang from the hall.

"Mizz B.! The police wants you!"

Rolling her eyes, Miss Blackburn grumbled to herself.

"Can't do nothing for themselves....L, sweetie, I know it's late, but could you feed him? Just hold him like this and be sure he don't choke."

And after postioning the child in his arms, the nursemaid bustled out of the room.

It took a minute for the events of the past hour to sink in. L shook his head, then reached to pull back the bit of blanket covering the infant's face. _Unusually quiet..._ he thought. Other babies had come through Wammy's, though they never stayed for very long, and they were all very loud.

Not sure if he was doing it right, L stuck the nipple of the bottle into Nate's slightly parted lips. It must have been okay, because the ghostly child immediately latched on, sucking as though he had never eaten.

"But I guess you haven't ever eaten. This is your first time, huh? Well, it's my first time holding a baby." L murmered. He stroked the fine white hair, his senses locked on the tiny being in his arms, the bitty sighs, the bashful blinking, everything as new to the dark child as it was to the light.

Finished with the bottle, L placed the child on the table, then walked to the sink to rinse the vessel out. The baby began to cry, far too loud a sound for such a tiny thing to be making. Stumbling on weak legs, L hurried to comfort little nate, scooping him up, rocking him.

"Sssshhhh...hush. I didn't mean to go away. I'm always right here. You'll always be near."


End file.
